Blackbird
by ChaosWithinMe
Summary: Abigail Windsor was a noblewoman with a weakness for adrenaline. After falling in love with a thief, they fall in with a gang of assassins, The Whalers. But life changes when the Empress makes an offer she *can't* refuse. Rated M for language, sexual references and violence in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: Blackmail

**Chapter 1:Blackmail**

"Lady Abigail. Do you know why I have summoned you here?" Empress Jessamine Kaldwin paced in front of Abigail. She was graceful, but each step made the china on the table clink together, spilling its contents. Her hair was tied up as always unlike Abigail's whose red locks tumbled carelessly down her back.

"I'm sure it's of great importance, Cousin. After all, you sent not two, not three but five watchmen after me," Abigail replied. "It was quite a shock to have my carriage stopped like that. I feared it was highwaymen." Abigail looked down at her mud-splattered boots, dollops of sludge had splashed against her petticoat too. She took a small sip of the exotic Serkonan tea. It had an odd spicy taste that she found intriguing. She couldn't decide if she liked it or not.

Jessamine stopped her pacing and turned away from Abigail. She kept her back straight and pushed out her chest with her hands behind her.

"I'm sure you've heard the rumours?" Jessamine asked over her shoulder.

"About a certain bodyguard frequenting an empress' bed chambers. No, not at all." Abigail smirked into her cup, her barbs matching the spice of the tea.

"I wonder," Empress said, stalking in a circle around Abigail. The room was filled with the soft hymns of violins and the gentle crackling of the log fire.

Abigail knew the Empress had something important to say. And not just because she'd sent so many Watchmen to fetch her, but because she had sent them away the moment Abigail had sat down.

"What is a woman of your status and stature doing slumming it with a marauding band of thugs? Murderers I hear."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Abigail's stomach dropped to her feet, and she had to put the tea down, save her hands from shaking. She looked into Jessamine's eyes, to force earnestness and shield herself in false honesty.

Jessamine wasn't buying it. She reached into her masculine jacket and produced three cards with holes punched into them.

"These audiographs are very enlightening. You should be more careful with who you call friend." She threw them across the table. Abigail touched her fingertips to the cards' edges but didn't pick them up. They were a little worn around the corners, and they had black smudges across the bottom.

"And where did you get these?" She asked through a shaking breath.

"The royal spymaster, no less. Fortunately for you, he heeded my instructions and turned a blind eye."

The Royal Spymaster was a snake. A cuckoo in the nest. Abigail knew that it was a handful of coin that kept his lips sealed. And how much until they opened once more?

"Perhaps you should be careful who you call friend." Abigail said, not looking away from the cards, "I fear a blade is at your own back, Empress."

"There is always a blade at my back. His name is Corvo," she said.

Clever. Abigail thought but she couldn't help but feel that Jessamine was being a little arrogant, overconfident and perhaps a little naive. She trusted Corvo too much.

"You're an affluent lady, with an inheritance to rival the Boyles." Jessamine leant against the mantel, a glass of Tyvian wine in her hand. She swirled it as she spoke. "What does a woman like you get, I wonder? Certainly not money. Is it power? Glory? … Sex?"

Abigail clenched her jaw.

"Let's say I'm not the only being visited in my bedchamber." The flames lit the Empress' face, exposing the smugness as she drove home her point. "The heiress and the thief. What? He came in to steal your crystal but stole your heart instead? Or maybe you're just a woman stuck in her teens rebelling to piss off daddy?"

"What do you want?" Abigail huffed.

"Now that we understand each other, allow me to explain," she turned away again, her hands behind her back. "Rumours of Emily's parentage are spreading and if I allowed them to continue…well, people may start digging for proof, And if they dig…"

"They may find it."

"Or demand it," she said. "I need these rumours quashed or at least distracted."

"I fail to see how this is my issue." Abigail leant back on her chair, smoothing out her dress.

Jessamine spun to face Abigail, leaning on the arms of the chair to put her face into Abigail's, "I own you. If I say it's your issue, it's your issue." Jessamine's breath stunk of liquor with a hint of malice. She sat down in the brown leather chair beside Abigail. "There are some who would use this knowledge to question Emily's right to ascend to the throne, and some may even challenge my leadership. This cannot happen."

"What do you propose?"

"Exactly that," said the Empress.

"I don't understand."

A cough from behind. Corvo was at the door. He passed through it like a shadow, closing it behind him and strutting towards the two. He wasted no time dipping onto one knee and producing a ring box from his pocket. He smiled broadly but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Instead, there was resentment.

"And if I say no…" Abigail muttered.

Abigail didn't even see the Empress move; she was behind her now. Jessamine leant over her shoulder and traced Abigail's jawline down to her neck, causing her to shiver. She tightened her grip on Abigail's neck and spoke into her ear, "Do you know what happens to pretty little girls like you in prison…Or maybe I should throw you into the Golden Cat."

Jessamine's hands on her throat forced her to look up at the huge portrait over the fireplace. A recent Sokolov portrait of the Empress herself. Abigail felt pinned, with the painted Jessamine staring hauntingly down at her, and the real Jessamine's breath in her ear.

"I don't like being the bad guy, but I will if I have to you."

"Only when it comes to family. The scoundrels of the slums have to see you as a fucking angel."

Jessamine lunged forward to grab Abigail's hands, "You know, maybe the Overseers would be interested in what you hide beneath those gloves?"

Abigail pushed through Jessamine's arms and stood, keeping her back to the fire. Corvo sat in the leather chair, still having said nothing, and watching the scene in front of him. His eyes flickered in the light of the fire, and a glimmer of amusement flashed within them.

"Do you think people are that stupid? They will see right through this facade." Abigail returned her gaze to the Empress, who sauntered over to stand beside Corvo.

"The people can't see through glass.," the Empress snapped.

"They see enough to force you to desperation," Abigail observed. "How long do you think this little distraction is going to last? Especially with the disease spreading through the slums."

"Sokolov assures me the sickness is under control. It is not our major concern right now." Jessamine waved her hand dismissively, "We are on the brink of civil war amongst the isles. We must focus our attention on dealing with the troubling politics. I will not have my legitimacy to the throne questioned. Not now, when the Empire is under so much unrest. I need to be strong."

Abigail knew the struggles of the aristocracy. Sure it wasn't as pressing as starvation or disease but the effects of a crumbling rule could still be devastating.

"Will you be able?" Abigail's shoulders dropped, her hands held limp at her side. "With all the gravity this deserves, will your heart take it?"

Jessamine didn't answer at first. She gazed into her lover's eyes as Corvo took her hands in his. The energy between them was palpable.

"It is for the best."

"You are so sure this is going to work."

Jessamine jumped to her feet and jabbed her fingers towards Abigail. "I know it is because you are going to be a very good actress and convince everyone you've been madly in love for years. Or you will be taken to the Abbey. And we know what they do to witches in there."

Abigail still refused to give a definitive answer. She ran through the plan in her head; the prospect of being m arried and to someone who's not even from the ruling elite. Abigail pushed the window open to allow a breeze on her flushed face.

"You would cast us both into misery for the sake of putting Emily on the throne?"

"Yes."

"I must discuss this with Thane."

Abigail flicked her hair over her shoulders and stalked towards the doors. But before her hands could fold around the cold metal, the crackling speakers outside burst into life.

"Attention Dunwall citizens, this is a formal announcement from our fair Empress. The Lord Protector, Corvo Attano, will be married to the honourable Lady Abigail Windsor. May they be blessed with eternal happiness and prosperity."

Abigail's mouth tightened into a thin line as she glowered at Jessamine.

"My timing was a bit off, it seems."


	2. Chapter 2: Visitor

**Author's Notes:** A bit of a delay, for which I am sorry. Short version, depression and anxiety suck. Anyway, here's the second chapter, and please bare with me if the formatting is a bit off. I'm still getting used to things. Thanks.

* * *

"What did you do, Corvo?" Abigail paced in front of him. Her heels clicked against the concrete floor and echoed around the chamber. She ran a hand over the torturer's tools; all were slick with blood. If she listened, she could hear the sounds of the people who had been here before. Every scream, every plea, had soaked into the walls and into the air that stagnated in the room.

"Was our lie really so awful?" Her voice cracked as she asked the question he could not answer.

"We should hurry," Thane whispered.

Abigail's childhood friend and lover peered through the keyhole of the door. Thane stood watch as she toyed with Corvo. He was a faithful sentinel. He had even stood guard outside her and Corvo's sham marriage bed, even when a drunken royal protector made demands of his wife. Despite his boyish round face and tussled blond hair, Thane cut an imposing figure of muscle and power. But he also oozed with the grace of night wolf sneaking through the shadows. Sometimes she wished the Outsider would have him join her in the Ether, but Thane was her light, and she would not seek to taint it with the darkness. After all, no one knew what awaited them after this life.

Abigail leant against the wooden table and ignored the blood that seeped into her dress. She folded her arms as she regarded the unconscious man strapped to a metal chair. His face was swollen, his nose was bleeding, and his hair was matted with blood.

"He's pathetic." She scowled. She realised the cause of her doubt. Abigail and Thane had come to rescue her husband. The moment they had landed on the cold, concrete floor and laid eyes on the former royal protector, she hesitated. She had just stared at him, expecting a fighting man, but what she saw was a broken, little boy.

Abigail crossed the space. She tilted her head like a painter regards his subject. Corvo clung to consciousness with an ounce of dignity, and even that was marred by the wet patch on his crotch. She hitched up her skirt as she straddled Corvo, squeezing a groan from him with her weight. The hard metal of the chair made her knees ache. She leant in to press her forehead against his so hard she could hear the bones creak under the pressure. She closed her eyes and pressed harder still as if trying to climb inside his head. But nothing was there, nothing but the agony and despair.

"He destroyed this city, ruined everything," she said. Putting her weight on her knees, she grabbed his chin and turned his head from side to side. He was weak. "He needs to pray harder." She tapped his forehead with her finger and then leant in to whisper in his ear. "He always comes for us in the end."

Thane snorted, stabbing through the intimate, morbid bubble that had engulfed her and Corvo.

"Tell that to Sokolov," Thane said, "he's been trying to talk to the Outsider for years." Thane tugged at the sleeve of his replica overseer uniform, the mask lain forgotten on the floor. They hadn't even bothered to use the disguise. Abigail had opted for the 'silent' approach in end, once she'd seen the prison and its easily accessible high ledges. Easily accessible to her, anyway. Thane had felt wholly useless in this affair, but he still gazed at Abigail with more love than she ever deserved.

Abigail slid off Corvo's lap, evoking another painful moan from the man. "Sokolov drinks King Street Brandy and sleeps in silk." She strode around the room to a desk in front of a large portrait of the Lord Regent himself. She lifted a couple coins from the desk. "He isn't interesting," she said. She flicked a coin of 10 and flashed Thane a flirtatious smile, "Corvo is."

Thane shrugged, "It's odd what an immortal Deity finds interesting…"

The door swung open.

Abigail threw her energy out, slowing the world around her.

The black gloved hand belonged to a wayward guard, no doubt come to take Corvo back to his cell. Abigail dashed through the ether, grabbing Thane and landing on top of a collection of pipes. As time lurched forward, she made sure to clasp a hand over Thane's mouth.

Thane inhaled sharply and the guard below stumbled backwards grabbing at his chest. He peaked into the room, but Abigail knew only Corvo was in there. The guard turned and looked to either side of the door, still finding no one. He reached down, plucking the forgotten overseer mask from the floor. He tutted and mumbled to himself.

"Overseers leaving their damn crap everywhere, those zealots think they run this city. We run this city." The man sighed, "I really could do with a whiskey. This job'll be the death of me."

Thane tapped at Abigail's hand, and she removed it, mouthing an apology. Now wasn't the time to hang around. She wasted no time and blinked from precarious ledge to precarious ledge until they were safely outside.

They landed on a supporting concrete pillar on the outside of Coldridge Prison. The early morning sun was guiding over the sea by a fading bitter breeze. The frigid air curled around the two figures standing in the shadow of the oppressive building. Below the waves of the estuary crashed against the slime covered rocks below. Wafting up the stench of the sewers that joined the river bringing with it the spawn of the river krusts. Abigail swayed on her feet.

"You used all your mana," Thane said, quick to steady her.

Before she could answer, the sea became quiet and still. The air became thick and a silky voice crawled over their skin.

"Miss Windsor. It has been a long time since I sensed you in my ether. You're out of practice."

The Outsider hovered several feet from the edge of the pillar. A dark, purple-streaked black cloud swirled around his feet. A portal to the Somewhere Else, a place she had only glimpsed in her dreams. Despite his black eyes, gaunt pale skin and chilling, invasive voice, Abigail was not afraid of the Outsider. By now, he was like her shadow. Forever present in the corner of her eye.

"I got boring." She said, flicking her hair over her shoulder and trying to ignore the empty nausea that came with a tapped out mana supply.

"I missed you." His voice was like the silk Sokolov slept it, and was just as tainted. The Outsider liked to pretend he was more than just a scientist playing with his subjects' lives, making them run mazes and changing reality just to see what happens.

A smile danced in his eyes and flirted with the muscles on his face, but it didn't reach his lips.

"He's innocent, you know," the Outside said. He moved to float at an angle so she had to look up at him.

She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him, "I don't suppose you'll elaborate, will you?"

"I'm surprised at you, little Blackbird. Well, you'll see soon enough," the Outsider snaked around behind her, "As soon as the loyal spymaster crowns himself Lord Regent tonight."

Abigail's stomach dropped and her heart tightened. How did she not see it? The dizziness returned, stirring the sickness and dredging up guilt. She was no different than the mindless city watch, condemning him and abandoning him.

"So selfish, Miss Windsor." The Outsider pushed the guilt further into her heart, slicing at her insides. "So arrogant to assume it was you that drove him to murder. You need to look beyond yourself."

She shook her head, pushing the negative out and standing tall, she met the Outsider's eyes, and in one instance even he seemed to recoil; although not for long.

"My shortfalls are not important. What of Corvo? You do love setting the cat amongst the pigeons, and Corvo is one skilled kitty cat." Abigail was not afraid to let the smile twist her face and expose her mischievous side, but the Outsider showed no such humour. He frowned and growled low and threatening. A crash of thunder and a flash of unnatural light, and he was in front of her again, "You make demands of me?"

"I make suggestions." She did not shy from his anger.

He cooled as quickly as he flared, and came closer to her. "You are a curious one. Of all my favourites you are only one to speak to me in that manner." He played with the ends of her hair, now dyed black, wrapping it around his finger and tugging it through his fingers.

"Am I expected to bow, my lord?" She gave a fake curtsy, as best she could, considering the odd way in which the Outsider played with her hair.

"You are expected to be respectful." He gave a sharp tug, enough to evoke a sharp pain from her scalp before releasing her.

"Was it out of respect that you twisted an eight year olds dreams to nightmares?" Abigail snapped, rubbing at the sore spot on her head. "Was it out of respect that it took ten years of these night terrors before you saw fit to explain?"

"You should be careful, my little Blackbird. That smart tongue may prove to be your undoing."

"If you're not going to aid Corvo," Abigail steered the conversation back to present and pressing things, "then I guess I'll just have to go back inside."

The Outsider chuckled, "Man makes plans and Gods-"

As the Outsider's form crumbled to ash, something pierced the air where he once hovered and stabbed into her shoulder. She peered down as she stumbled back. The ominous green liquid inside was quick to leak into her skin. Another dart brushed her hair and over her shoulder. As she landed, she twisted and before she lost consciousness she saw the shadow of the Outsider disappear in the morning sun. Thane fell beside her.


End file.
